Hold On
by finelley
Summary: Harry's struggling to deal with Sirius's death. And he's failing miserably. Songfic to Hold On by Good Charlotte. Oneshot. Warnings: cutting.
1. Hold On

Hold On

Disclaimer: I don't own "Hold On", Good Charlotte does. And Harry Potter...well, if I owned him, I wouldn't be writing this.

Summary: Harry's not dealing with Sirius's death too well. Song-fic to "Hold On" by Good Charlotte.

Warning: Does involve a blade and blood. Yes, Harry is cutting himself.

Hold On

**T**he light in the bathroom glared off the tiles. It was dim, but it was still enough to see by. Harry sighed. His mind was numb, his heart barren, and his emotions were walled up like a dam. It had been like this all summer. If only Sirius hadn't gone...

_This world, This world is cold_

_But you don't, you don't have to go_

_You're feeling sad, you're feeling lonely_

**N**o one cared that he was depressed. Ron and Hermione had actually hooked up this summer. They were probably at Ron's place, getting ready for school. No one from the Order had sent a letter. They were probably all afraid. He was so delicate a child, afterall. The Dursleys were out on a vacation, having left Harry with very few food items, and almost no money. It was okay though, because he barely ate anyway. Ever since...

_And no one seems to care_

_Your mothers gone and your father hits you_

_This pain you can not bare_

**A**nd his dreams... His mother turned away from him, or who he supposed was his mom. It was a woman without a face, but he assumed it was her. She told him what a disappointment he was, asking how he could let "him" go like that, and then turning away. She never looked back.

His father had yet to visit him, but someone else had. Voldemort had come several times, to laugh at Harry, mocking him in his agony. Telling him the pain might not have had to existed had he joined him. Each word was like a blow delivered to his heart, driving in more and more discomfort, and pushing out his few emotions.

_But we all bleed the same way as you do_

_And we all have the same things to go through_

**T**he blade reflected the dim overhead lights. It was a simple razor from a shaver Aunt Petunia had bought. His right hand lowered to his arm. It wasn't shaking, in fact it was a steady as a rock. He pricked his skin, a tiny drop of blood escaping from the cut. But with the cut went a small amount of the pain. It was slipping away...

_Hold on, if you feel like letting go_

_Hold on, it gets better than you know_

**H**e pulled the blade in a straight line down, and then turned it sideways and pulled another short line in his skin. The hiss escaping his lips could easily be mistaken for one of pain, but it wasn't. It was a hiss of pleasure. His pain, it was ebbing away. He was being released from this torture. He would need more cuts to be numb again. He doubted if there was anything left for him to feel. Ever.

_Your days, you say they're way too long,_

_And your nights, you can't sleep at all _

_(Hold on)_

**L**

_And you're not sure what you're waiting for_

_But you don't want to no more_

**H**arry decided not to make the next one a circle. His hand hesitated for a moment. _What was this? Nervousness? No! _Seemingly of its own accord, his hand continued. He turned the blade sharply, making a box on his arm. The blood was drizzling off, pouring to the flour with small splashes each time.

_You're not sure what you're looking for_

_But you don't want to no more_

**O**

_But we all bleed the same way as you do_

_And we all have the same things to go through_

**M**etal tore flesh as he went on. Three small horizontal lines, and two even small vertical lines connecting them to the far left and far right. His pain was flowing. The blood was carrying his pain away. But the memories...

_Hold on, if you feel like letting go_

_Hold on, it gets better than you know_

**S**

_Don't stop looking you're one step closer_

_Don't stop searching its not over_

_Hold on_

**T**he blade seemed to be guiding itself now. His pain had lessened immensely, it was almost gone. Just two more cuts. He drew the razor in a small horizontal line, and then connected it to a longer vertical line. His final cut. The blade dropped from his hand, making a dull _thud! _as it hit the tile and skid away.

_What are you looking for?_

_What are you waiting for?_

**T**

_Do you know what you're doing to me?_

_Go ahead...what are you waiting for?_

**H**arry looked at his arm, the pain finally gone. The word etched there symbolized his one and true feeling. He was in a hole, and the receding light from above had just been cut off. The blackness he swallowing him, and his fear of never finding that light submerged.

_Hold on, if you feel like letting go_

_Hold on, it gets better than you know_

_**LOST**_

_Don't stop looking you're one step closer_

_Don't stop searching its not over_

**A**mid the blood pooled beneath him fell something else. It was a crystal. No, it was...a tear. Harry's right arm flew to his face. It was covered in the little wet drops. The dam had broken, and there was no holding it back. But, why didn't he feel anything? Guilt? Remorse? Hate? Shame? Nothing... His pain might be gone, but so were his emotions, every single one, except fear. Would he be able to get them back? Surely Sirius would have wanted him to feel something eventually?

_Hold on, if you feel like letting go_

_Hold on, it gets better than you know_

**T**hen he felt it. The little bit of emotion, buried under it all. With a heart-wrenching cry, Harry covered his eyes, tears sprouting forward from them. His mind replayed Sirius at the veil. His body floating through, that weird look on his face. The first wave of numbness, and the start to the pain.

He lay there crying for sometime, until he heard a sound downstairs. Must have been his imagination, no one was suppose to be home in weeks. Harry sniffled, looking at his arm, and almost retched. That horrid word told the truth of his life. It told about him before he'd found Sirius, how naive he'd been as a child. It told about him after he'd lost Sirius, and how the pain had taken his to that place. The only time he hadn't been there was when he was with Sirius...

_Hold on_

**A**bruptly, the door opened. Dumbledore stood there, his eyes taking in the whole scene. He whisked away the razor with his wand, and came to Harry. He tried to heal the wound, but Harry hid his arm. He had to bear this burden. It was his life, that word, and he would make sure that Sirius's spirit knew it.

Dumbledore seemed on the verge of tears. He pulled Harry close, whispering words of comfort. The only words that Harry actually heard started to echo through his mind. Dumbledore told him that they would help him, everything would be ok. He told Harry to hold on. And Harry's light shone dimly in his mind. He could hold on. Sirius wanted him to. This was a sign from Sirius, telling him not to let go. Those words echoed, rebounded off one end of his mind and the other.

_Hold on_

And he would. Even if just for awhile. For Sirius.

Author's Note

Yup, Harry cut himself. But someone helped him. So, should you cut yourself? NEVER! There's always another way, even if your light doesn't shine on it. As long as there are good people in this world, your light can keep shining, even if it is just a little dim. There are people willing to help, and the pain can fade, but you have to want it.

Don't ask me how I know, if I'm even right about this. I've never cut myself. I've had friends that do though, and its not so cool to them or me. The best way to deal with a problem is to admit there is one. Talk to someone, they'll listen. Even if it's me. I support anyone whose as lost as Harry.


	2. Author Update

So, I've received a lot of reviews over that past years, and in response to several of them, I'm writing this.

At the end of that story, it states that I'd never cut, didn't know what it was like, etc. etc. However, since I wrote this when I was in maybe 7th or 8th grade, things have changed…my sophomore year of high school, I suffered a pretty major depression and began to cut myself. A lot of reviewers I get have gone through the same experience and like to point out that the writing is good, but realistically, that's not what it's like to cut, that the experience isn't the same.

I'd like to say that for part of it, I agree. The pain doesn't just go like that, and if anyone had found me cutting, I doubt they would have cuddled and said it was ok. However, I did find that emotions were hard to associate with, I felt extremely lost, and that fear was a constant, horrible companion. Thankfully, I worked through my issues on my own and am much better now.

Still, if you personally ever need someone to talk to, please feel free to e-mail me or contact me on MySpace. I can associate with being in that mind set, and I know that one thing I'd always wanted when I was there was for someone to really listen to me. Well, that's my update!

~Finelley


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